"You are beautiful. You are strong. You are awesome. You are tough, you are not the student body president for nothing," I say the last bit in a low tone and laugh.
I should be proud of myself and ignore my husband's treatment of me. I am tough, the first female student body president my school has had in the last thirty years, it's a big feat. I shouldn't mind my husband's dislike of virgins. He's a monster.
As I murmur these words to myself in front of the long, standing mirror in our matrimonial bedroom, an invisible cloak settles on my shoulder. Even if it's only for a moment, I feel better than I did earlier.
My eyes are puffy, nothing a little makeup cannot fix and my lips are parched. I have a bad habit of biting them when I'm nervous. My reflection flashes me a fake smile with her hands going to her waist as she strikes a pose in her body-hugging gown that reveals even the contour of her belly button.
The top two buttons of the navy blue gown are down to reveal more than a decent amount of cleavage and her hair is swept up in a half-up, half-down hairstyle. The hair is away from my face as I like it and is also down, the way Brandon likes it.
Giving myself a mental kick, I remind my twin image in the mirror that I did not dress up in my most provocative gown for Brandon neither did I style my hair this way for him. I am doing it for myself, yes, for myself first before him or anyone else.
My shoulder sags, I stare harder at myself in the mirror, maybe that's a lie. I have not put on any lipstick yet because I don't know his favourite colour, that's if he has one. I don't have any, I believe all colours have a role to play and should be loved equally.
The ringtone of my new iPhone, the first of many gifts that came from Brandon before the wedding cuts through my thoughts and I happily leave the mirror. Standing there didn't do as much good for me as it usually did. Speaking to myself in front of a mirror before a big day has always had this magical effect on me. Except for today.
I panic and drop the phone when I see who's calling: Clarissa. It's not just any call, it's a video call. Thankfully, my feet cushion the fall and I pick it up to see the screen is free from any cracks. I do not want my husband to have any other reason to dislike me more than he already does.
Clarissa doesn't know I'm married, no one in school knows just yet and I hope I can keep it that way. I have only one more semester to go and it will be bye-bye university, welcome to real life.
"Bitch, where have you been? You went MIA on me," Clarissa shouts as soon as my finger hits the receiver button. "Ouuuu, I like me some hot, sexy, black girl, who are we seducing tonight?" she says with a whistle.
A laugh escapes my lips, the sound causing her to laugh along. Clarissa is the only one who makes the word black sounds like a title, she has taught me to embrace my skin the same way she loves her Asian eyes.
"No one," I murmur.
"Don't you dare lie to me, lady," she starts, "I can see right through you and I know you are avoiding my question. Where are you?"
"Clary."
"No, no, no, no, no," she cuts me off, "you are prepping for a lie, ain't you?" Her eyes fill my screen and her voice reduces to a whisper, "Bitch, don't you dare lie to me."
"Yes, bitch," I reply and laugh out loud.
The word bitch coming from her sounds sexy, she's the only one who's allowed to call me that and many other names. I do the same too. We are that close, not just roommates, roommates and best friends.
When her full face appears back on my screen, I smile as she plays with a lock of her jet black, straight hair. "Clary, I'll tell you everything when I get back next week."
She doesn't need to know I am in the same city with her and I didn't travel to South Africa like I told her. We have always talked about how we wanted our weddings to be and I could not bear the thought of inviting her to a wedding with a man I do not love.
"Fine, suit yourself," she mumbles. I can already picture her giving me the silent treatment for a whole day when she finds out I lied to her. She doesn't take kindly to liars, all thanks to a scumbag of an ex.
A notification pops up on my screen, I bite my lips and look down. "What's it?"
"My parents are calling," I answer.
"Put them on," Clary says and I shake my head with my eyes nearly falling out of their sockets. They will most definitely talk about my marriage. "Come on now, I haven't seen them in ages. I miss them."
We have a cordial relationship with each other's parents and when they had asked me why Clarissa was absent for the wedding, I had sprung up a lie. All I had done during that period was lie and make up more lies for my friends, parents and anyone who questioned my behaviour.
"Are you okay?" Clary asks and I nod. "If you don't want me to speak to them, it's fine but make sure to extend my greetings, okay?"
"Clary ..." I trail off.
"It's fine," she continues, "you promise to tell me everything when you get back?" I nod, I will give her every single, little detail.
The screen of my phone goes black after we exchange our goodbyes and I smile sadly to myself, sometimes I think I don't deserve her. Ma's face comes on my screen and a scream from her has me buttoning up my gown. She's big on decency and doesn't give a damn about my age. I'm still her baby.
I roll my eyes, greet her and ask of Pa.
"He's fine, he went out," she says, her eyes twinkle and I laugh, she always acts like a newly married at the mention of Pa. "How's Brandon? I'm loving my new phone."
Brandon bought a new phone for all of us, the only reason I started using it was because my old Samsung thought it a good idea to stop working and also because of my parents. They had no hesitations accepting their future son-in-law's gift, they love him.
"He's fine too," I lie. I haven't seen him since our early morning fiasco and I have not left the room. I'm not sure I want to see him.
"Did he like our gift?"
I chuckle at the excitement in her voice, it was her idea to get him something in return after all he has spent on us. "Not yet."
"What do you mean?" She frowns. "It's either he likes it or he doesn't, which one?"
"Ma," I whine and pout, "not yet because I have not given him. We were too tired last night, there was no time for gifts."
Her face brightens up and she jumps from the stool she's sitting on. She took the bait like I expected. "I get it. How was it?"
"Ma!" I will not discuss my inexistent sexual life with Ma no matter how close we are.
The door creaks. "I think he's back."
"Alright, moghel," I laugh at her wrong usage of the South African slang which loosely translates to homegirl. I am not her homegirl, I am her daughter, her baby.
"Let me leave you then. Ndiyakuthanda."
"I love you too, Ma," I reply and end the call.
No sound comes from the door again and I chuck it up to my imagination. I walk back to the bed and plop on it with the silver necklace in my grasp. My fingers stop on the half heart pendant that reads: El.
The other half that's hidden somewhere inside my box has Brand written on it and if I join the two together, they will form a full heart. I am not sure I want him to have it, I don't know if I will ever get to wear mine.
Ma and I had been excited to make the twin necklaces but now I am filled with only uncertainties. I shove the necklace under the pillow when the door opens without notice, doing my best to act normal.
"What are you hiding?" Brand asks with his eyes darting between me and the pillow.
"Nothing," I reply and sit up, going on to add, "where have you been?"
"Work. I missed you."
A look at him in his well-tailored suit and I swallow, he is a human edible I cannot have. Brandon dumps his jacket on a stand I didn't notice until now and makes himself at home beside me. His palms cup my cheeks with his thumb caressing my lips.
The remarks I told myself earlier about not touching him fly out the window when he places a kiss on my lips. His tongue thrusts into my mouth as a moan escapes me and our tongue fights for dominance which he asserts. We continue kissing with him pinching my nipples at intervals.
I feel myself getting wet and I wish I didn't button up when Ma chided me, it would have allowed Brandon's hands more access to my breasts. Still, I follow his lead. I smile internally when he places my hand on his shirt and I unbutton his shirt slowly, moaning as he pinches my nipples again.
My hands come in contact with rock hard chest, going to squeeze one of his nipples. I smile in confidence as he moans just a little.
"Found it," Brandon says against my lips and breaks away from our kiss, leaving me to wonder what he is talking about.
In his hands is the necklace and when he raises his head, I see that his eyes are still clouded with lust. "This isn't nothing."
He holds it up so I can also see it, his eyes squinting to read what is written on the pendant. I try to pry it away from his hands but it's of no use. "Who gave you this?"
I can detect anger in his voice which makes me wary. This man will be hard to please.
"It's a gift. A wedding present from us," when his brow raises, I quickly add, "from the bride and her family to you."
He takes one long look at the necklace and I wait for his verdict. "Since it's my money you used, are you allowed to call it a gift?"
Brandon has been taking care of all our expenses, even placed Pa on a salary since he can't work. Pa told me all about this on my wedding eve, in addition to being nice to my husband because he is a good man.
I scoff and try to defend myself but my breath hitches in my throat. My eyes moisten with tears but I don't let them fall, neither do I tell him that I never wanted anything to do with him in the first place, he is the one who took advantage of Pa's situation and forced marriage on me.
"I hate gifts. I hate jewellery even more."
Closing my eyes to stop the tears that were threatening to fall, I murmur, "I'm sorry."
When my eyelids flutter open, I find him staring at me. I offer him a shaky smile and motion for him to hand me the jewellery. He pulls me up instead and says, "Lunch is downstairs."
I don't recall how long I stand there after Brandon leaves but it's long enough for my legs to ache and my knees to feel like jelly. I crumble to the bed and in annoyance, put my hair in one big, messy bun and unbutton the first three buttons of my gown.To hell with Brandon and my attraction to him. I am so over him. My body seems to disagr
When my eyelids flutter open, a head full of blond curls is fussing over me. I blink twice and my vision clears. I see now that it is the bimbo who was touching Brandon, I shriek and push her off me. How dare her? She can touch, even have Brandon but not me.A small yelp escapes the bimbo's
A yawn escapes me, I blink to clear the rest of the sleep in my eyes with the back of my hand going over my mouth to prevent another yawn from slipping out. I swipe at the errant strand of hair over my face, putting my messy curls into a bun with a few tendrils falling out as I move into a sitting position to observe my environs. This is a new place.
His gaze on me forces my eyes to return to my fingers on my lap. "Why did you do it?""Because..." A sigh leaves my lips and I start all over. "I know you won't touch me and when she offered, I could not say no, my body wanted it. I need to feel like a woman."
Once the door of the private jet slides open, I am blessed with a view of the limousine waiting for us. The chauffeur in black suit is standing by the side, a hand on the door handle, ready to open up. I chuckle at the sight, I have never had a chauffeur, I don't even have a car and I can't help but think about how much my
No words leave my lips after that and he seems to find it okay. We step into the building and I see it's a hotel, a big, fancy hotel with no one in the corridor except for the pretty receptionist. Her face lights up in a smile as she walks over to hand Brandon a key card without a word spoken to me or an acknowledgement of my presence.
Silence descends over us, the tension in the room is thick, each passing second leaves me feeling dumber for voicing out such an awkward request. What do I know about sex, let alone being a submissive? My eyes raise to meet Brandon's, my lips part open to tell him to forget anything I said but he cuts me off with a soft glare and a sigh."Sex in my world is different," he finally says. He runs his fingers through his hair, letting some of the brown locks fall over his forehead. I palm his cheek, the pad of my thumb caresses his prominent cheekbone."You can teach me; you can show me how."Brandon's hand comes to the small of my back, my legs tangle in the sheet when I try to change position to straddle
We stare at each other for a bit before I pull my shirt over my head. My breasts point at him, my nipples stand at attention but I make no move to touch him, neither does he try to touch me. I bite my lips and wait. Whatever happens next is up to him, he's the teacher and I am the willing student.
"You promised," he whispers. He lets go of me to run his hands through his hair. "You promised me, Elna. Your beginning, middle and end." Jumping to his feet, he folds his hands behind his head and murmurs, "You promised. You can't leave me. Baby, please."Unable to look him in the eyes, I bury my face into the pillow and continue shaking my head. I know the answer to his question now, I am so certain of it. Do I still want him? Yes, I will always want him, more than I have ever wanted anyone but I can't have him.Murder is murder and he killed his brother.And it hurts.It hurts every fibre of my being. I love him so much it hurts to think of a future without him. I don't think I can stop loving him but when I look at him, all I see is a killer. If I cannot look past his sins then I shouldn't be in his life. It will be our secret, it's not in my place to tell other people and I am fine with that. I wi
It is hard.Really hard.
He doesn't regret it. But he feels bad. What does that mean? I race down the stairs as fast as I can, my car keys dangling in my hand. Hopefully, I look sane with the way I hurriedly dressed and left. I need to talk to Clarissa but about what? Do I want to tell her what Brandon said? What if she calls the police on him? Will she do that? She won't.
I wake to amber eyes staring down at me. I flash Brandon a sleepy smile, he presses a kiss to my hair and I giggle, he must love my new shampoo. "You slept well?" I ask.He nods, placing another kiss on my temple. "I did, you?" he says against my skin and I hum in response, loving the wet kisses he litters on
The next day, my phone is pinging with notifications. David shoots me a grateful text I don't reply, I am sure he doesn't expect one, we are not friends. My finger hovers over the delete option on his contact, I hesitate. It won’t hurt to have it so I save his number, something I had failed to do. Bored, I send Brandon an SOS and switch off my phone.Time to take matters into my hands.Bathed, shaved and clad in lace lingerie that barely holds my breasts and reveals my bump, I sit up, legs crossed while awaiting that click that will announce his entrance. He won't talk to me like a normal person and now, I am pissed. And horny. And frustrated.The click to signify his presence sounds, reverberating in the room. I shoot up from the bed as fast as a pregnant woman approaching her third semester can and saunter to the door, swinging my hips. Brandon eyes me from head to toe, the appreciative glint in his gaze is missing but I shrug tha
Curiosity kills the cat. Satisfaction brings it back. It has to. That is the reason I am in this café, waiting for David after I made the spontaneous decision to see him. I pull my oversized tracksuit over my belly, trying and failing to blend in with the scanty crowd.A wave of nostalgia hits me when someone passes with a tray of fish and chips. I need to call Clarissa. I don't understand how we let life, thesis and coursework pull us apart but we need to meet. Sending her a short text, I roll my lip between my teeth while awaiting her reply. If she replies before David comes, I will cancel our meeting. She comes first.I shouldn't be here.That seems to have become my new mantra and each time, things turn out better than I expect. I hope it's the case today. Taking a swig from the water bottle on the table while I wait for the first person to show up, I try to push the nagging thoughts out of my head.
Seconds of silence pass, when Josh doesn't seem to be leaving, I ask, "Who is Brendan?""Our brother, Brandon's twin." I blink, my head spins from the sudden information and my thoughts crash to a stop when he adds, "He is dead." Josh's smile is pitiful, I don't know when I move to stand beside him. I pat his shoulder. "He died in an accident."Brandon has a twin, a dead twin. It's all I can think while my hand meets Josh's shoulder in an awkward show of comfort. He pries my hand off him with a smile I don't comment on because of how fake it is. I rub my hand against my hip. Brandon has a dead twin.Seeing how shaken I am by the news, Josh pushes me into his seat, I sink gratefully into it. I shouldn't have asked. My husband should have told me himself. "When did he die?""A while ago."I snap. "How long is a while ago?""Five years," he rep
Josh catches up to me before I reach the house, he offers me a smile, I shrug. None of this is his fault. We take a seat by the kitchen window, staring at the trio seated inside the gazebo. From our position here, we can't see their lips moving but I can't help wishing they will start a conversation. Talk to each other even if it ends in a screaming bout."Do you think they will reconcile?"Josh snickers. He hops to the fridge like he pays rent and returns with a huge chunk of cake. The leftover I had saved to munch on later because I can't resist anything sugary and his family didn't let me enjoy it. Fleeting anger surges through me, I close my eyes."Nope. Not a chance," he says. I turn to see him dragging another stool close to me.The poise and gracefulness he was forced to adapt when we were outside vanish when he gobbles the cake. I smile foolishly, this is the Josh I know. Slapping his knee, I mot
The gazebo is deathly quiet and the tension promises to suffocate us. Everything is going well, if you count the curt greetings from Brandon's snobbish parents. Queen Elizabeth doesn't hold a candle to Brandon's mother with her prim and proper manners, wrinkles and white hair cropped short. All she needs is a crown and I'll genuflect before her.Brandon's dad is an older beardless version of him with thinning hair. He is so quiet, the kind of quiet that allows his haughty wife freedom to speak to people as she pleases. A minute after exchanging greetings and I can already tell it was a bad idea to invite them.Seated beside Brandon, muscles tight and frustrated at my lack of release, I drum my fingers on my legs hidden under the table. He didn't have to punish me this way. I am pregnant, he shouldn’t leave me horny. One look at him shows that's the least of his worries.He is as tensed as I am, maybe even more and a wave of gu